


burned

by cassyl



Series: witcher femslash february [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassyl/pseuds/cassyl
Summary: After the Battle of Sodden, Tissaia sits by Triss's bedside, and realizes they have more in common than she realized.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: witcher femslash february [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191461
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	burned

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [@bamf-jaskier](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/)'s [Witcher Femslash February](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/post/641932214927523840/i-noticed-that-there-is-a-startling-lack-of-prompt) prompts!

Tissaia wakes in the middle of the night to the smell of smoke. It’s not the scent of a fresh fire, only a ghost that clings to her. It’s been like this ever since Sodden. No matter how much she scrubs at her hair or scours her skin with magic, she still catches the scent of it at the oddest moments, and then she’s right back on the smoldering field, the only thing alive for as far as the eye can see.

“Can’t sleep?” comes a weak voice, pulling her back to the makeshift infirmary—the stinging odor of sal ammoniac, the labored breathing of the injured.

Tissaia sits up in her chair and lights a candle, careful to shield its flame with one hand. From the bed, Triss Merigold’s tired eyes look up at her from a face etched with pain.

“My amulet,” she murmurs, “could you . . . ?”

The charm Triss keeps twisted around her wrist must have slipped off in her sleep. Tissaia gets to her feet and retrieves it from the floor. The moment Tissaia wraps it back around her wrist, the tension on Triss’s face eases. Tissaia wonders how long she lay there suffering in silence, waiting for someone to wake up, and decides she does not want to know.

“You should rest, if you can,” Tissaia says briskly. She’s never had the caretaker’s instinct, has no bedside manner to speak of. 

Before Tissaia can turn away, Triss reaches out and grasps her hand. It must hurt to move, but Triss’s grasp is strong. “Is there any news of Yennefer?”

Tissaia removes Triss’s hand and replaces it on top of the coverlet. “None.”

“But she’ll be all right?” Triss sounds like a lost little girl, no older than she was when she first arrived at Aretuza. “We’ll—we’ll find her, won’t we? We won’t leave her alone?”

“We’ll do our best,” Tissaia says, because she doesn’t believe in false promises.

All at once, tears well up in Triss’s eyes, and Tissaia surprised to find her own eyes pricking at their corners in response. _Of course_ , she realizes, watching grief wrack Triss’s frail frame. It seems absurd she hadn’t noticed it before—the way the younger sorceress looks up to Yennefer, the way she used to covet every prize Yennefer attained. _She loves her_ , Tissaia thinks, and smiles in pity at a kindred soul.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://likecastle.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
